


The Walking Sun

by booksnerdharrypotter



Series: grisha angstology [1]
Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alina Starkov is Still a Sun Summoner, Alina as a goddess, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Mal Oretsev Dies, Mal is dead, Sun Summoner, its poetic, poetry kinda, sun goddess - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 11:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15840759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksnerdharrypotter/pseuds/booksnerdharrypotter
Summary: Alina walks the land with sunlight burning at her fingertips.





	The Walking Sun

At first thought, she was believed to be a witch. A halo of brilliant radiance encompassed her, and the people wondered what unholy devil she had bargained with to gain such power. They called her every name but those which she truly was. Sovereign. Queen. Goddess. 

 

As she sauntered across the earth, golden lustre flashed across the skies. Her hands were wreathed in flames, and under her bare feet, snow melted. She was heat and light and warmth. She was fire and lightning and scorching winds.

 

Some dared to shackle her with iron fetters, to steal away her power for their own. But when they tried, she threw out her fire, her light, her power, and scorched them to husks. Anyone who urged to hurt her, to control her, did not know of the monster that prowled under her skin. And that that beast was ready and ripened to burn. 

 

The people now tiptoed across their world, spreading rumours of a god who walked their lands. When she walked their streets, even those who despised her were hypnotised by her. In the days of peace, they whispered, she was an angel who granted the warmth of a hundred burning suns. But when angered, she was a demon who would burn cities to the ground. 

 

The entire planet stopped in her presence. They loved and feared her, unsure of what she would do next. Even she did not know herself. No one had ever taught her the words of _fate_ and _destiny_. Instead, she grasped the future with her hands, clawing and pulling and yanking until she was its master. 

 

For days and weeks and months she crossed their lands. Her dress was soiled, no longer the white it once was. Her hair was a bird’s nest and her body dirtied.  She looked a mess. But she did not care. She did not wish to be a thing of beauty, to be easy on the eyes. Her appearance was a reminder that she was her own person and that man could not take everything they wanted. 

 

She had seen civilisations stumble and collapse. Had seen and experienced so many flames that she did not know if this was living or burning death. It did not matter, she supposed. For she had spun herself a crown of pure gold and sunlight, a throne of fire and bones. She breathed in the light of the world, its blaze injected in her veins. Her wings were born of wind and gold.

 

She was a Queen. She was a Goddess. She was the Sun. And when she fell, she would drag down the entire world with her bloodstained hands.

 

 


End file.
